


The pink ladies

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Grease (movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-18
Updated: 2007-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 01:40:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1624760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sandy loved Danny but she really loved Frenchie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The pink ladies

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Dessie for the beta!
> 
> Written for Zulu

 

 

It was a very important decision; Sandy needed to choose between Danny and Frenchie.

Sandy loved Danny. She loved him because it was safe and familiar. Safe, like how you can always count on Friday coming after a Thursday. Safe, like how you can always count on a prep rally before a big game.

Sandy loved Danny but she really loved Frenchie. Nothing about loving Frenchie was familiar or safe; it was exciting, comforting and genuine.

Being with Frenchie made Sandy feel alive, it made her feel whole. Like the time behind the school bleachers:

Frenchie holds Sandy's hand, their fingers clasped tight to the others, as Frenchie holds Sandy's arms above her head.

Sandy can hear the screams of the girls practicing their new cheer in the distance, as she felt her body being backed gently into the bleacher.

"I've been waiting for this moment all day," Frenchie breathes out, pushing the hair from Sandy's face. "Where we can be close to each other."

"I know. I hate having to keep us a secret, French."

It had been hard keeping their relationship a secret from Danny, from everyone, but it had never been the right time to share their secret.

"I didn't see you before practice, I didn't think you were going to come," Sandy sighed against Frenchie.

Frenchie lifts Sandy's chin to make proper eye contact. "Nothing could keep me from you."

The relationship had been shared gasps in dark surrounds, hand holding under tables and a lifetime of promises under wondering fingers. Sandy wouldn't change any of it.

Frenchie moved forward, capturing Sandy's lips in her own, gently. What started as a sweet kiss soon turns heated.

Sweet sighs hit the air as the warm summer heat helped their flush build. Their hands move quickly, trying to find release.

Frenchie had never had a problem with Danny, until she saw how he treated Sandy.

Danny couldn't really love Sandy, and even if he did, how could he treat her the way he did at the prep rally?

And just who picked up the pieces? Frenchie like she always did.

"I just don't get it French," Sandy cried, her face blotchy. "All that time I spent with him and he acted as though it meant nothing to him."

Was Danny an asshole? Sure.

Does he care about anyone besides himself? No.

Was Frenchie in the business of breaking hearts? No. That's why she says, "I'm sure Danny loved spending that time with you, Sandy."

"I slept with him, Frenchie," Sandy sobbed. "He told me he loved me."

Frenchie gathers Sandy into her arms. Wrapping her up as if she were a baby, trying to protect her from the hurt she was feeling.

Frenchie coos softly into Sandy's ear, her hand soothing on her back, until she notices Sandy's body go limp and her hiccups subside.

That night, as Frenchie was comforting Sandy, she promised herself she would never let Danny hurt her again.

Sandy never grew tired of hearing Frenchie telling her just how much she loved her.

Frenchie loved her, like how children love dancing under water sprinklers on a summer day. Frenchie loved her, like how Sandy loves Australia.

Sandy loved Frenchie too, possibly more than anyone else in her life, even more than Danny.

Sandy still remembers the first time Frenchie told her she loved her.

Sandy lay next to Frenchie, her breath heavy, skin slick. She smiles as she traces Frenchie's curves. "You really are beautiful, French."

Sandy watches delighted in Frenchie's response. Her eyes grow wide, cheeks pink, letting a giggle escape shy lips.

"I'm not nearly as beautiful as you Sandy. You're perfect." Frenchie smiles. "You even have a cute accent."

Sandy leans forward taking Frenchie's hand in her own. "I wish the world would just go away, French," she mumbles against damp skin, "I wish they would all go away, everyone. I just want it to be us, French."

"I know Sandy, me too. We will always have this moment, just you and me under your blankets."

Sandy leans up to kiss Frenchie lightly, so soft.

"Do you even know how much I love you?" Frenchie asks, her voice strained.

"It can't be nearly as much as I love you."

And of course with love comes passion. And with passion comes heated arguments. Like the time Sandy blew off Frenchie to see Danny;

"Are you ever going to talk to me again?" sandy asks.

Frenchie shrugs her shoulders, looking away from Sandy, trying to hide her hurt expression.

If someone were to call Sandy frustrated, it would be an understatement. "Look French, I'm sorry, ok?"

Sandy groans when she receives no response. "Frenchie I'm really sorry. What more can I say? What can I do?"

"I don't know Sandy. What can you tell me that will make what you did ok?" Frenchie spat. "What can you say that will make you choosing to see Danny over me ok?"

Sandy turned to face Frenchie. "Hey, it wasn't like that. You've got it all wrong."

"Well, what was it like then?" Frenchie knew she wasn't being fair. But love doesn't have to be rational.

"Look French, nothing happened. I just wanted to see him again, I kind of miss being around him."

Frenchie felt as though someone had ripped open her chest and was gripping her heart. "Do you love him?" Please say no, she silently begged.

"Not like I love you. You know that," Sandy said, trying to grasp hold of her.

"I don't know anything anymore, Sandy. Would you rather be with him than with me?"

"Are you crazy? Of course I want to be with you, you're all of my important firsts."

Frenchie grudgingly let Sandy pull her closer, to close the gap between them.

"I'm really sorry, French. I love you." Sandy pulls Frenchie into a tight hug. "Sometimes I just get so scared of how real this is."

"You need to make a decision, Sandy. I love you, I do. But I can't share you with him anymore," Frenchie said firmly.

"I know I do. I will. I'm really sorry."

Looking into Sandy's eyes Frenchie grins. "I know I forgive you."

Love also means being able to forgive.

As Sandy sat on the hill watching Danny race, the wind blowing at her face, she knew she had a decision to make.

Sandy had loved Danny. It was safe and familiar, but she couldn't really count on him.

Sandy loves Frenchie. Every day was different. Frenchie made her feel protected, appreciated, adored, loved and cherished.

Sandy never had to question Frenchie's feelings or motives; with Danny she wasn't sure were she stood.

Sandy loved the thrill of dating someone considered wrong. She liked the excitement of being bundled into dark corners and back seats.

Frenchie excited a part of her that Danny didn't even know existed.

Sandy smiled as she accepted Frenchie's outstretched hand. As she gripped her hand to stand, Sandy knew she had made her decision.

 

 

 


End file.
